


of petty infatuations and love games

by suzakukills



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzakukills/pseuds/suzakukills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time that Himuro sleeps with Aomine he is sure he won’t ever do it again. He sits at the edge of the bed and bends down to grab his shirt, then his pants. He slips his underwear on and gets dressed as quietly as possible, doing everything to avoid waking him up, though that might seem unlikely considering how loud he is snoring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of petty infatuations and love games

**Author's Note:**

> These two won't leave my head, they're writing themselves I tell you. I enjoy Muro-chin a lot, he's one of my favourite characters - so it's natural I'd want to make him HUUUURT. So the fastest way to painsville is messing around with Ahomine, specially if it's to piss of brother dearest, Kagami.

 

The first time that Himuro sleeps with Aomine he is sure he won't ever do it again.

He sits at the edge of the bed and bends down to grab his shirt, then his pants. He slips his underwear on and gets dressed as quietly as possible, doing everything to avoid waking him up, though that might seem unlikely considering how loud he is snoring.

 

It wasn't bad. The sex, that is. But, Himuro would be lying if he said he didn't expect more out of Mr. The-only-one-who-can-beat-me-is-me, but it was  obvious that a guy so in love with himself would rarely get involved with others; It wasn't an easy task, getting him into his bed, but when Himuro set his mind on something he'd achieve it. He hoped that by first thing tomorrow word of this would reach Taiga, that would be the perfect scenario.

If he can't get Taiga to love him the way he does, if he can't have sole ownership of his heart, if he can't be the only one, then he'll take the next best thing: his undivided hatred. Even if he has to sleep with the whole Generation of Miracles to obtain it. 

"Hn... Himuro?," Aomine's voice is hoarse as he shifts and reaches for Himuro's back, but he's already up on his feet. "Go back to sleep," he instructs without bothering to turn around and meet his eyes. "Why are you leaving?," he asks in between yawns and stares at Himuro's back, the dim ambience in the room makes it hard for Aomine to see him, but he could trace his silhouette with his fingers if he wanted to. "It's late, just stay and leave tomorrow," he says and slowly sits up.

"Ah, I have things to do, just go back to sleep," Himuro insists and puts his hands in his backpocket, trying to check if his wallet is still there, at this time there's nothing he can take but a cab to get back home. 

Before Aomine can reply, he's out of the apartment. The cold breeze hits him and he shivers, it's probably a 40 minute walk back to his own apartment, and that's okay, a fourty minute walk might just what he needs to rearrange his thoughts, to figure out how exactly this needs to work out. 

The second time that Himuro sleeps with Aomine he's no longer trying to deceive himself and say he won't do it again, instead he tells himself that there's nothing wrong with enjoying a good fuck, specially if he considers the high risk of Taiga surprising them in the apartment that Aomine and him share. So when he slips out, he waits until he can hear Taiga's footsteps, until he can hear him opening the door, after he's coming home from a night out with his University buddies. He slips out at that exact moment, when he's sure to open the door from Aomine's room and bump into Taiga as he tries to slip back to his own room without making much noise. From the look on the red-head's face it's evident he had no idea what was going on, seems like Aomine had been a good boy and kept quiet. Himuro smiles, that sinister one sided smile and nods slightly before leaving the apartment - without even saying a word.

His phone is on fire the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. Everytime he looks down at the caller i.d., he can see Taiga's name, every time he smiles to himself and lets it ring before going to voicemail, 20 missed calls in a week. 

He is out shopping one day, it's a sunny sunday afternoon and he's made up his mind about those new shoes he's been eyeing for a while. He walks inside the sports store and back in the basketball aisle he spots them, red and blue, as tall as ever. They're laughing and fooling around with a ball, the small female clerk looks terrified and unable to stop them. He stops in his tracks, decides to turn around and do this another day. Just as he spins around, he hears his name, "Tatsuya," and he considers stopping, but he doesn't. He opens the door to leave and the small bell attached at the top of the door chimes, and he walks out. Doesn't get too far, what with a hand stopping him, and he doesn't even have to look back to know whose hand it is, the strong hold can't belong to anyone other than Taiga. "Taiga, look I-," and he can't finish what he's saying because the voice that's cutting him short isn't Taiga's. And he looks down and tanned skin is holding him back, "Huh? Kagami's inside," Aomine calls out and lets go, he looks a bit flustered, probably ran out to catch up to  him.

"Ah, hello," Himuro says and smiles, he pulls his hand back and waits for an explanation. "Haven't seen you lately," Aomine says and puts his hands in his pocket, making him look like a small child waiting to be scolded. "I've been.... busy with work," Himuro replies and instinctively puts his hand on top of dark blue hair, as if trying to soothe a beast. "Yeah, I guess you have," and it takes him a second longer than it should, but he shakes off Himuro's hand and takes a small step back. "Well, bye then," Aomine says and turns around, quite bothersome to have to chase after someone only to get a half-assed reply, he thinks. 

Himuro doesn't stop him.

The third time that Himuro sleeps with Aomine is actually more like the fifth, if you count the angry bathroom sex they had inside a sports store bathroom and the blow-job he gave him while they were watching the NBA's last game of the season. 

Himuro's getting ready to put his clothes on, when he feels an arm sling itself over his shoulder, then Aomine's breath caressing his right ear. "Leaving again," he says, stating the obvious apparently is one of his strong-points, Himuro thinks. "If you want me to stay just ask me," the words slip out of Himuro's mouth and it's not like he wanted to take them back, they're quite in-character if you think about it, it's something that he would say, then why does he feel like there's a hole in his stomach as soon as they leave his mouth?

"Whatever, it's just troublesome to have you leave everytime, because you wake me up when you are putting your clothes on," Aomine says and lets go of him, as he lays down again, turning his back on Himuro, he wants to look at his face so badly, those dark eyes and that beauty mark that he can't help but kiss over and over, he wants to see the way his hair falls on his face and how his lips curve slightly when he's smiling, really smiling - not those fake ones he shares with the world, but those rare ones that he can't control, the ones that show up on his face when Aomine's doing something stupid again or when they're watching some comedy show and he catches up on a weird joke. It's pointless, he thinks to himself and buries his head under a pillow.

Cold lips press upon dark skin, they trail kisses down his spine and stop at his coxis, then some words in english are spoken, some words that Aomine can't understand to save his life. A playful slap on the ass and Himuro leaves again, this time he forgets to time his exit with Taiga's.

As he is sitting in his living room, chin resting upon his knees, heads preoccupied with holding a cup of hot chocolate, and as he's listening to the sound of the rain falling, Himuro can't remember the last time he let himself indulge in the imaginary scene that was Taiga's crying face, a scene that shook off the demons when he crawled back to bed after a long hard day. A scene that shook off the demons when he finished thrusting into Aomine and he puts his clothes back on. He can't remember. It's been days, weeks even. 

He can't remember a lot of things lately, but he does remember the way dark hands contrast over his pale stomach, he remembers bits of food decorating Aomine's face as he's devouring the home-made hot-dogs he prepared for him, he remembers the way his arms slouch over him and the way nails dig into his back and he's lying on top of the man. He remembers his voice, hoarse and annoyed as Himuro's putting his clothes back on. He remembers the back-and-forth comments as they sit watching a game together.

It's time to stop this, Himuro acknowledges. There can't be a sixth time.

Days later, he finds himself accepting the job post overseas, going back to the states never seemed as perfect as it does now. He's packing a suit case, putting his things in boxes, trying to decide if he's keeping them or not, if he should just throw it all away, start anew, forget this. Like he could. Like going back wouldn't push him back to square one: America and the head-aching memories of Taiga. 

He's staring at the mess, the mess his room has turned into. Then the door bell rings. When he told Atsushi he was moving, he never figured he would show up to help him pack, at most the purple-haired man offered to treat him to dinner. But Atsushi did know how to pleasantly surprise him ever since their high school days. So he walks past boxes and piles of books and things and memories. 

Opening the door was never considered an extreme sport before, not until he opens it to find Aomine standing there, a bag full of beers and a couple of rolls of duck-tape in each hand.

"Hey," he says, as if it's completely normal to be here, he doesn't ask if he can come inside and pushes his way in. Himuro closes the door slowly, he pinches himself to make sure he's not still asleep. He never told him where he lived.

"Kagami told me where you lived," Aomine starts, as if reading his thoughts, the surprise in his face must have been obvious. "I thought we should have a few beers before you leave," he says, as if Himuro was leaving to run an errand, not to another country. 

"I didn't tell Taiga I was leaving," Himuro replies. 

"Listen, it doesn't matter, just... well whatever, let's just drink this, alright," he says, struggling with the words, it was something Himuro understood - how he didn't want to do anything that was troublesome, he enjoyed simple things, his straight-forward character was a double-edged knife. 

"Well, if you're here, help me pack first," and it's the only explanation that he can offer Aomine. 

"I knew I should've come later," he replies and puts the beer in the fridge before turning back to help. 

In the end, Himuro puts everything in boxes, but the disparity between them is obvious, the ones that he taped up himself look alright, whilst the ones that Aomine did look like a mess, tape everywhere, they'd be impossible to open.

They didn't really talk, nothing outside of "This too?" and "How about that?" but it was a good quiet. They sit down in the couch, and Himuro opens a couple of beers for both of them, their thighs touching every so slightly, uneven gasps for air as they try to regain stability after working so hard. Himuro closes his eyes and leans his head back.

"I know you slept with me to piss off Kagami," Aomine says, and the words are there, true and clear, and lour and perhaps a bit like a stab to the neck. "I don't care about that," he continues and Himuro can't bring himself to open his eyes, to look at him. "He doesn't care about it either," is all that Himuro can say. 

"Is that why you're leaving?," soft lips press on Himuro's neck as the words escape Aomine's mouth. "I think it's a shitty reason to leave," the words tickle his neck as he talks without separating, his tongue moves in circles and Himuro's nails dig themselves at the edge of the couch. Surpressing a moan and perhaps something else.

"Why are you here?," he asks and his hands scurry off to grab Aomine's nape and his fingers entangle themselves in his dark blue hair. "Why do I need a reason to be here?," he questions back and moves slowly and sits on top of Himuro's lap. 

"What makes you think you can visit my apartment without my permission, better yet what gave you the wrong idea, assuming that I care about whatever you've come to scold me for," the words don't match the way his voice breaks as they leave his mouth, they aren't sharp knives, they are not hurtful, instead, they feel warm, desperate. 

"I'm not going to ask you to stay, I know it's what you want, but I'm not going to do it," Aomine whispers in his ear and his hands are moving up, from his abdomen to his chest, to his neck, his fingernails edging. 

"I wouldn't stay even if you asked," Himuro says, finally opening his eyes. He pulls back on his hair and kisses Aomine wholeheartedly, his lips hungry, as if trying to devour him, their tongues slipping back and forth, someone's lip gets bitten and some blood comes out, but they just lick it. Aomine gnaws at Himuro's chin and they pull back.

He begins to think about the consequences of this, of not kicking him out, of letting him straddle him, of sharing a beer with him, of spending his afternoon packing boxes, he begins to think and then stops. He allows himself to throw out all reason and logic and consequences and indulges.

What he said before, about not having a sixth time turns into a lie.

But this is one lie he can live with.

 


End file.
